


The riding crop

by Cee5



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlolly - Freeform, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:44:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cee5/pseuds/Cee5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was challenged to write this. My first of the sort. Sherlolly. Steamy but not exactly smut. Embarrassed for life. Very short story, enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The riding crop

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [unknown](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/25034) by cumberbum on tumblr. 



The light was blinding my eyes. Sweat running down my wounded head. I was bleeding but couldn't do anything about it. My hands were tied. Literally. I couldn't remember when on earth had I agreed with this or why. I guess a few drinks alter one's perception, even mine. The head bleeding had been my own fault. Fallen over a sharp corner of a table as I tried to get up and find my way to the door. She had laughed until she saw my cut. She was concerned, as she always is. She was also a bit drunk, though I suspected not as much as I was. I couldn't trust my vision, but as she looked at me, so close to my own eyes, I could see she was beautiful. I knew she was beautiful, I had seen her before. But right then and there she seemed even more. That's why I kissed her. I didn't want to, what was I doing? Even as I kissed her my brain was racing, working. Things got steamy and I didn't mind at all. And to be honest, I liked the feeling. I never thought I would, but I did. Maybe a blurred mind once in a while isn't that bad. She kissed back. Oh, and she could kiss. Her tongue played with mine and I tasted fire and candy. She pushed me closer and grabbed me tighter and I was breathing fast, panting with her. Then, as my heart started to set the pace instead of my mind doing it, I held her tight as well, and I wasn't sure anymore where I started and she began. Now, standing here against the wall, handcuffed and with an untreated wound, I don't feel threatened at all. She is Molly, after all. And she is kind. But she is also fire. And my ice has melted.

I don't know whose idea was, to be honest, or if the moans and mumbled words on the brief seconds our mouths set apart started to talk in unison and saying the same. Then she let me go, got up and pulled me by my hair and thrust me against the wall. She wasn't strong enough to hurt me, but I don't think I would feel it if she was. My whole body was pulsing against hers, trapped between her and the wall. She didn't have handcuffs but she had ropes and I was willing to pretend they were the same. I stood there, my eyes facing the wall as she left, instructing me to go nowhere. I wanted her back.

Her small footsteps paced inside the room and I sensed, even if I couldn't see her, as she approached me. Before she came too close she traced my back with the ridding crop. I shivered. She placed it between my thighs. I tried to get the rope loose but I had taught her the knot and I was going nowhere for now. But I turned around.

The Molly I saw was the same, but it wasn't. She was dressed up, all leather and lace, but still covered enough to allow me to guess more than to see. And she was smiling; satisfied with the effect she was having on me. She ruffled my hair and put her lips close to mine, without kissing me. She bit my neck softly, unbuttoning my shirt. With a blunt movement she turned me around and thrust the riding crop at my jeans. It didn't hurt, but to have Molly in control like that was more than I could handle. She teased me, and I struggled to keep focus, while my hands worked on the ropes. It was a long wait, but finally the rope gave in. I startled her, but she didn't even need to recover. I dragged her to the bed and started to undo the lace and leather, kissing her everything. She grabbed my hair and pulled again, this time tightly. I cried in pain and, taking advantage of that for a moment, she twisted me in bed, placing her hips over my pelvis, on top of me now. She then whispered, a hoarse voice, a clear order.

"Tonight I am the one in charge, Mr. Holmes."

I looked at her and smiled. The morgue was definitely going to become a place for other kind of experiments. Oh, Miss Hooper, what have you done to me.


End file.
